


six months in winter

by CapnWinghead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Codependency, Insecurity, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Prison, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 12:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnWinghead
Summary: In an attempt to break Bucky out of a Russian prison and bring him home, Sam gets tossed in alongside him.





	six months in winter

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be writing simple porn for Kinktober and somehow this lengthy piece happened. So, enjoy! I'm not entirely sure where it came from.

Sam never begged.

A strange thing to note, but they’d fought each other quite a few times in the course of his little cat and mouse game; it was one fact Bucky noticed early on. The man on the bridge had sent him to find Bucky. It took a few encounters before he realized he wasn’t sent there to kill Bucky. Of course, Bucky would understand if he was; he’d done a lot of awful things as the Winter Soldier. Not everyone had the warm and fuzzies about him.

When an encounter in a Russian bar got Bucky tossed in a Russian prison, he’d thought that was the end of it. He didn’t have any more lifelines; the man on the bridge -- _Steve_ had sent his protégé to find Bucky, not even bothering to come after him himself. There was no way he’d find out where Bucky was or that he’d send his partner to come fetch him. Not that Sam would even be able to get past the front gates. He’d either get shot on sight or turned away out of fear of inciting some sort of international incident. Bucky wasn’t worth the trouble.

Of course, as with most things in Bucky’s life the past few years: he’d been wrong.

He entered the prison yard one morning, the thin soles of his shoes dipping into a puddle and splashing frigid water along his ankles. Cursing, he stopped to watch his step when he heard a loud slap of skin against skin and a resulting grunt. Any other day, Bucky would have kept it moving – the guys in here didn’t warrant and sympathy. He started to head to the west corner when he heard a shout.

He knew that voice.

He pushed through the crowd to see what was happening in the center.

Sam kneeled in the dirt, swiping his thumb over the split in his lip. Grinning, he braced himself as a man twice his size lumbered towards him. Tensing, Bucky scanned the crowd around him for anyone that would be inclined to help Sam. He knew this guy, Sezja. He was a mean son of a bitch and, chances were, Sam hadn’t done anything aside from standing near him in the yard. If he was smart, he’d beg Sezja for mercy.

Before Bucky could react, Sezja balled up a meaty fist and shoved it towards Sam’s face. Bucky’s pulse ticked up, moving past the two men next to him when Sam lashed out with a sharp kick to Sezja’s left ankle. Everyone froze, not expecting the move to cause much damage. To their surprise, there was a sharp crack, a roar of pain and the man went down on his right knee. With two quick moves, Sam had him out cold. There was a gunshot and the others dispersed.

Sam came to a stop in front of Bucky.

“You ready to go?” he asked with a small smile.

Bucky didn’t quite return it. But a part of him wanted to.

+

Sam was every bit stuck here as Bucky was.

The way he told it, he’d been on his way here to try to break Bucky out the legal way, then Steve’s way, then Fury’s way. On his way into the city, he met a woman in need of help escaping from an abusive husband. Of course, he helped and of course that woman turned out to be carrying the child of a diplomat. She disappeared and Sam was hauled into prison. No matter, Natasha had reached out to her contacts before Sam arrived and, it would take time, but they would get them out.

It had been three months.

Sam had a cell to himself a few blocks over from Bucky’s. In the beginning, they rarely saw each other. After taking on Sezja, the others left Sam alone. Either out of fear of earning his wrath or fear of Sezja’s if someone else took out his enemy. It took two weeks before he returned from medical and, even then, he hadn’t returned to gen pop. Four weeks in, one of his lackeys tried to start a fight with Sam in the yard. Bucky shattered his knee cap and broke three ribs before he was pulled off of the man. He had to spend a month in the hole, but when they let him out, he had a new roommate.

Sam snored.

Sometimes he talked in his sleep. Always in English. He spoke only in English. In this time here, he’d learned some broken Russian and understood enough to keep himself alive, but he never spoke to anyone in Russian. Maybe it was a way to keep from losing himself here. At times, when the walls started closing in, hearing Sam’s voice and his tongue made it easier to remember he was James Barnes. At times when it seemed much simpler to return to the soldat.

“Hey, Buck?” the voice sounded from above. A pause before the thin mattress shifted and Sam’s voice sounded louder. “Buck, you sleep?”

Bucky grunted, opening his eyes to the bottom of Sam’s bunk. He rarely spoke and Sam never seemed to mind. Sam continued, “I never said thank you for what you did for me that day. I know it would’ve been really easy to just let that guy beat the crap out of me.”

A pause. Then, “Why thank you, Sam. It was no trouble at all. Your friendship is the only thing that keeps me warm on these cold cold nights,” he said in a low voice. Then higher, “Don’t mention it, man. It’s my pleasure.” Back to the low one, “And I must say, you’re pretty damn easy on the eyes.”

There was a quiet sound and Sam stopped, freezing overhead. Then he turned, his head appearing over the edge. “Was that a laugh?”

+

By default, they spent all of their time together.

They had an hour in the gym together, two hours in the yard, they went to meals together and then they were sat in their rooms together. After years of solitude, it was a rough adjustment. Sam was there constantly, in Bucky’s space, his voice in his ear, the scent of him surrounding him all the time. Even beneath the basic industrial soap, there was a scent that was all man and all Sam – unique to him and him alone. It had never been entirely washed away when they laundered the linens and sometimes, Bucky would climb into his cot at night and bury his face in a pillowcase that had been Sam’s previously. It started to comfort him.

They moved in sync.

Moving around each other in the morning without words, a few times without sight. Bucky rarely spoke but Sam always seemed to know what he was thinking, when he found something amusing, when he needed Sam to elaborate because he didn’t understand. Sam had begun learning Russian – something that both comforted and terrified Bucky at the same time. It was a relief Sam had started to learn something aside from knitting or crochet - something that would help him survive in this place.

It was also terrifying because it meant Sam had begun to accept that he might never leave this place.

If it had started to get to him, Bucky hadn’t noticed. Sam was such a bright light, always ready with a grin or a joke, some way to escape the desolation around them. He’d refused to let this place break his spirit. The least Bucky could do was keep it from breaking his body.

Most threats were stopped before they had a chance to get near Sam. A face to the jagged brick, to the solid concrete or even a Bible in the right situation. Showers were safe enough with everyone focused on getting clean enough to get out of the cold spray. A few got ideas and Bucky quickly learned how easily he could break a shower head and slice open someone’s face with it. Sam always thanked him and never let on that he’d been scared. Even so, he kept closer to Bucky afterwards.

Bucky guided him with a hand on his back or his neck, always scanning the faces before them, a warning in his eyes. He kept in Sam’s space at meals and close to his back during showers. Always close enough to touch in any situation where they couldn’t. Even the guards learned the danger in trying to separate them. Sam had broken his hand but there were no new room assignments in their time here.

+

One night, Bucky woke up to quiet murmuring.

He turned over, burying his face in the pillow when he heard Sam stifle a quick intake of breath. Freezing, Bucky listened intently, hearing Sam let out a shuddering breath. His breathing hitched, rapid and worrying. Bucky had never heard Sam cry before.

He climbed out of his bunk, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Sam stared back at him in the low light from their small window above. His cheeks were wet, wiping at them quickly as he laughed softly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Bucky cocked his head to the side, studying him quietly. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.” Bucky’s nose wrinkled, his mouth a thin line. “I’m fine. You need your rest. You know how you get.”

Bucky huffed, reaching out and grabbing Sam’s arm. Sam tensed, eyes widening. Bucky didn’t often touch him inside of their space. He never needed to. Bucky’s thumb traced over Sam’s skin gently, smoothing over his pulse point as it ticked up and slowly calmed. He tugged lightly, shaking his head as Sam weakly protested. He slid out of his bunk to his feet, letting Bucky push him into his own bunk with a sigh.

Bucky crowded him in against the wall, pulling the threadbare blankets over them. Sam studied him quietly, his voice rough. “Thanks, Buck.”

+

Sam was sweating.

It seemed impossible considering the weather outside but, underneath their combined bedding and against Bucky’s warm skin, there was as thin film of sweat on his bare shoulder. Rather than return to his own bunk, he’d rather strip off his shirt and continue to sleep with Bucky. Bucky didn’t mind – at times, he’d even admit that he found it comforting. Sam’s quiet breathing, his warmth, burying his nose in Sam’s throat and breathing him in every night.

He might’ve been concerned about getting so attached but it had been five months and Sam wasn’t going anywhere.

On this morning, Sam turned over to face him, eyes opening slowly as a warm smile spread across his face. Bucky’s heart ticked up a bit, his chest tightening. At the look on his face, Sam laughed.

“I won’t let this place get me down. I’ve stayed worse places, believe me.” Bucky’s nose twitched, averting his eyes. Sam touched his cheek, pulling attention. His thumb traced over his cheek gently, his eyes soft. “Not your fault. You didn’t want to be here anymore than I did.”

Bucky’s eyes warmed, the word escaping brokenly. “Sorry.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he slid across the space, his breath warm, misting over Bucky’s lips. When they touched, Sam’s warmth chased away the cold.

+

“Golodnyy,” Sam said slowly, the word awkwardly moving over his tongue. “Golodnyy?”

Bucky nodded with a laugh, handing Sam one of the candies he’d stolen from the guards. Sam took it with a smile, tossing it in his mouth. “I miss my old reward,” Sam said, smile widening. Bucky rolled his eyes, pushing his hair behind his ear as he leaned in and kissed him softly. “See, that’s encouragement,” he murmured.

“Spaseniye?” Bucky rasped.

“Any day now. Same as the past five months,” Sam replied. Then, “Why can’t you ever ask me things in English?”

“Praktika.”

He slid down on the cot, pulling Sam into his arms. Sighing, he pressed soft kisses to Sam’s temple as arms wrapped around his waist.

“Sometimes I think we won’t ever leave this place,” he whispered. “I’m happy to have you. Big talker that you are, but the longer I stay here, the more I start to believe no one’s coming for me. That Steve got himself locked up somewhere and Natasha’s people can’t find me. Who knows if they stashed me away with my name or someone else’s? Who knows if they haven’t been told I died in the arrest?”

Bucky’s arm tightened around his shoulders, his breathing heavy. Sam stroked his hip in apology, kissing his chest. “I can’t stay here forever, B. I have family.” He pushed up, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “You do, too.”

“Vot,” he rasped, taking Sam’s hand, Bucky kissed his palm. “Here,” he repeated, holding Sam’s gaze solidly.

Sam’s eyes softened, his breath catching. His fingers slipped into Bucky’s hair, pulling tight as he crushed their mouths together.

+

Bucky’s hand slid under Sam’s shirt, smoothing over his back as he held him close, his tongue sliding against Sam’s needfully. Groaning, Sam spread his thighs, welcoming him between his legs. Rocking against each other, Bucky quickly lost himself, able to pretend, for a moment, that they weren’t in this place. That he was someplace nice and warm, a real home with the man before him.

He tugged Sam’s shirt overhead, burying his face in Sam’s throat. His scent was strongest here, Bucky’s fingers clutching tightly at Sam’s waist as his cock pulsed hard against Sam’s thigh. His teeth nipped at Sam’s throat, earning a light shiver as Sam panted and writhed against him. Bucky’s metal hand palmed Sam’s stomach, feeling it tense beneath the slight chill. Lost in the moment, he got Sam down on his back effortlessly, marking Sam’s throat greedily.

He rose over Sam, tearing at his pants absently. Sam bucked upward, a soft moan escaping. Bucky spread Sam’s legs, a strong hand gripping his thigh as he hitched Sam higher on the cot and slid down lower. Planting kisses down the center of his chest, leaving over a hardened nub as he pulled at Sam’s underwear. Sam was hard and wet, curving up towards his belly. The sight of it ignited a hunger Bucky spent most of his time trying to suppress.

His fingers pressed lightly against the underside, a spurt of precome dribbling over Sam’s skin. Sliding his tongue along it, he traced a vein absently, the heel of his hand pressing against his own erection. It was tempting to take care of himself but this wasn’t about him. Sam so rarely asked for anything and Bucky relished in the chance to spoil him. Bucky liked touching Sam – it was an easy way to show affection without words.

Sam’s fingers slid into his hair, his stomach tightening as Bucky took the swollen head into his mouth. Sucking lightly, harder as Sam tugged at his hair a bit. Earning a quiet grunt, Sam apologized, nudging Bucky’s shoulder as his head slid down to take more of him in his mouth. Sam’s cock pulsed, precome wetting Bucky’s tongue as he began to bob his head, his eyes falling to Sam’s rising chest, his eyes closed in pleasure. Sam was truly beautiful – even more so like this. His muscles tensing and relaxing as he tried to fight nature, tried to keep from pushing into Bucky’s mouth.

His fingers pulled at Bucky’s hair once more, a keen escaping. Bucky groaned, pulling off to stroke Sam’s cock. Panting, Sam’s eyes opened briefly, holding Bucky’s as he leaned over, his breath misting wetly over the tip. Sam’s mouth fell open as Bucky let the head slide over his tongue slowly, the heat drawing Sam’s eyes closed, his thighs tensing. His mouth tightened around the length, sucking harder as he took more inside.

Hips rocking needfully, his words grew louder. “Please, please, god, I’m so close.”

Sam never begged. Bucky shuddered, taking Sam down to the hilt and swallowing once. Sam cried out, tugging hard on Bucky’s hair as his cock jerked and spilled down Bucky’s throat. The taste of him, his strong scent in Bucky’s nose and his grip on Bucky’s hair made Bucky’s eyes clench shut as he came in his pants. His cock pulsing hard as he pulled up and suckled on the head of Sam’s cock, lapping up his release.

When he pulled off with a soft pop, Sam’s eyes fell open dazedly. A lazy smile spread across his face as he turned his cheek to Bucky’s pillow and held out an arm. Bucky moved in wordlessly, accepting the kiss to his cheek. “D’you need me to,” Sam began, trailing off as Bucky shook his head once.

It was freezing cold outside but, for now, they were entirely too warm.

+

Jakob was a real son of a bitch but he didn’t usually pick fights.

When he started to crowd Sam in the yard, it was instinct for Bucky to slide in between them and end it. As he moved in closer, he caught sight of a black bulge in the man’s waistband. He gripped Sam’s arm, looking to him in question. Sam shook his head, eyes returning to Jakob. When he started forward once more, it took everything in Bucky to hold still.

It wasn’t hard, a quick jab to Sam’s stomach and Bucky’s face. A light jab before a guard darted in, separating them. Bucky and Sam were dragged inside and shoved down a nearby hallway. The guard punched at the wall, a small door opening before he shoved a bag in Sam’s arms and pushed him inside.

Bucky moved forward leading the way. Sam’s hand slid into his, quickly serving to calm some of his frazzled nerves. He didn’t quite trust Sam’s people, but he trusted Sam. When they came to an opening, bright sunlight invaded. Bucky forced his eyes to stay open, listening for signs of any threats.

A voice called out, “I gave you one job, Wilson. One job and I find out you got yourself thrown into a Russian prison in a matter of hours. See why we don’t send you places?”

Bucky’s eyes adjusted to find a blond standing in front of them, arms crossed. Sam followed after him, a laugh escaping. He rushed forward, pulling the woman into his arms. “Romanoff. You look different.”

“So, do you,” she murmured, eyes closing briefly as she held Sam tight. “They played the shell game. By the time we found out where they’d stashed you, five months had passed and we had to find an in with a guy inside. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how lonely you must’ve been.”

Her eyes opened, finding Bucky’s quickly. She nodded once, the corner of her mouth quirking.

+

It was a hard adjustment.

His first night in Sam’s house in DC, he found himself pacing in the living room for hours, having woken up sure that he was back there and Sam was missing.

Sam found him, dressed in sleep pants. He moved in closer, paying Bucky’s tension no mind as he pulled him into his arms. He couldn’t send Bucky back to bed, but he managed to get him to lie down on the couch. He told him he’d get used to it. Bucky wasn’t so sure.

He’d given Bucky his own bedroom. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why. It was way too much space; the bed was too soft and he hated having a solid wall between him and Sam. What if something happened? What if someone broke in? What if Sam needed him?

What if Sam had given him this space because, now that they were free, he didn’t want anything to do with Bucky?

The next night, Bucky forced himself to stay in his room all night. Compromising by dragging a pillow into the closet. It was smaller, more reminiscent of the cell and the floor felt marginally softer than his cot. The pillow smelled of Sam.

It was hard spending his days trying to keep his distance. Steve came over sometimes. So, did Natasha. Every time he neared Sam, he felt their eyes on him as if they knew what Sam and he had done inside. They never touched, Bucky kept his hands to himself, but he found it near impossible to be in a different room from Sam – especially when other people were here.

Once, when Barton came over, he moved to slap Sam on the back. Bucky had him on the ground, his arm wrenched behind his back before he even realized. Breathing heavily, his eyes landed on Sam’s as he tried to calm down. It was a wordless conversation, one they hadn’t had since getting out. Bucky let Clint go, watching as he clambered to his feet with a curse. Natasha checked him over.

Sam found him in his room, pacing back and forth. When he closed the door behind himself, Bucky stopped, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he rasped. Sam crossed his arms as he moved in closer.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. You didn’t break my nose.” At Bucky’s face, he added, “Natasha’s handling it. He’s had worse.”

Bucky bit his lip, his chest tightening. He could smell Sam’s scent, different here. Some sort of cologne and a flowery soap. It was pleasant, but it was yet another thing that had changed. Another way Sam was new and not his anymore. Sam studied him quietly, his face softening gradually.

“I’m okay. I’m safe. You don’t have to guard me anymore.” His eyes gleamed, honest and open. “You never did.”

Cocking his head to the side, Bucky studied him quietly. Sam continued, “You never seemed to realize that. I’m grateful, believe me, I am. Most days, I don’t think I would’ve stayed me without you there watching my back. You have a big heart.” His voice grew rough, “That’s what I love most about you.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, earning a sigh. “You know how much I read up on you before I went on this search? So much of your life has been about not having choices. The last thing I wanna do is make you feel like I’m deciding anything for you.”

Bucky reached out a hand, touching Sam’s. Sam moved in closer, eying their hands. “You think I’m being stupid,” he said slowly. Bucky squeezed his hand. “I can’t screw this up.” His eyes met Bucky’s, hesitant. “I’m doing my best but I’m barely keeping it together out there. You’re the only one that knows what it was like in that place.”

At that moment, Bucky realized that, while Sam was being stupid, Bucky had been pretty damn stupid, too. Sam was doing what he’d always done – pasting on a smile and pretending everything was alright. Taking care of himself, not trusting anyone else to. A bright light in a sea of darkness.

Bucky touched his cheek, smoothing his thumb over Sam’s skin. Leaning in, he kissed Sam’s lips, calming in seconds. Sam sighed, opening for him easily, as though he’d been waiting. Bucky pulled back, resting his head against Sam’s, breathing him in. Sam wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, holding him close.

“The room’s too big.”

Nodding, Sam murmured, “I know what you mean. I’ve been sleeping in the tub.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh, kissing his cheek. “Closet.”

“I could make a very obvious joke here, but I’m not sure you’d get it.” He stroked Bucky’s back, nosing into his throat. “We’re going to be okay, Buck.”

Bucky kissed his cheek once more, holding him close.


End file.
